a/n- Hey bbs. So here is the next chapter to Start/End. WOOOO! You guys have been really responsive to this story so I thought I'd work more on it. Enjoy!
commence/conclude
As soon as the lock on her door latches shut she turns just enough to flop onto the murphy bed that she never has the time, nor energy, to put away. She kicks off her boots, launching them toward the small kitchenette as she runs her calloused hands through her dirty hair.
This is where her mind begins to process through all of the absolute ridiculousness. Like the old projectors in the youth facilities, each event goes like a flicker of a picture. The Ionian goddess, the walk to the docks, the engine nearly blowing up in her face (a rookie fuck up that makes her grit her teeth even now), staying overtime ( a common thing when dealing with difficult machines), the wrench sailing straight for Torrin's attacker, the sheriff.
Her violet eyes widen.
"Fuck." She murmurs softly as she presses her palms into her eye sockets. She waits for the fuzzy pressure to start before she let's go, causing her eyes to blink a few times.
The recollection of the sheriff freeze frames into her mind. The woman was phenomenally drop dead gorgeous. Everything about her had the absolute air of control, organization and earned power.
It drove Vi crazy.
But what really drove her nuts was the way the skin from just below her ear looked so soft and inviting before it became the sharp edge of a jaw. At the time of meeting her all she wanted to do was press her nose against it; to feel her pulse as Vi crossed the boundary of personal space. It made her mouth water just thinking about it.
"Fucking gay idiot." She hisses to herself, pressing her knuckles against her pounding forehead. "Had to play the ass card to one of the most powerful women in Piltover. Void above, what the fuck is wrong with me. 'Let us keep control.' The fuck, me! Now I'm suspicious and the fucking bacon is gonna be grilling me left, right and centre. Damn, I'm a sweet talker." She spat sarcastically.
She kicks herself out of her bed and moves to her small closet-like bathroom. It is long and narrow enough to fit a small tub, a half working toilet, and a basin sink. Shelves lined with the old tenant's medication and vitamins take up the rest of the space on the wall. The only thing of possession to Vi in the bathroom are the three oil stained towels, a bottle of mild painkillers, a brush and a tin can that was converted into a med kit.
She rests her hands on the side of the basin sink and stares at her reflection.
"What the fuck am I doing?" She asks her reflection, looking at the way her facial tattoo is etched into her cheek. Just like her past, she received it during a time where there was no recollection. The gang doctors said it was a case of amnesia caused by the amounts of trauma that her young brain could not fathom. A defence mechanism.
Defence from what, no one really knows, but it was enough to fuck up her brain and that must be something really terrifying. Growing up with gangs like the cog mafia, there was never a filter of the things that they have done in front of Vi. Some were so unspeakable it would make all of their mothers cry in shame.
With a sigh, she leans away from the mirror. She turns the rusty old knobs of the faucet, letting water course down onto her calloused knuckles cleaning off the dried blood of the attacker. Carefully she washed around the new split along the joint of her left index finger. Must have been from his cheekbones that she busted open. She inspects the bullet graze newly formed into her eyebrow. It was definitely going to be an impressive scar and an impressive story of bravery. It was sure to win the heart of some beauty at a grimy darkly lit bar. She cups some of the water into her palms and splashes it over her face, trying to wash the image of Caitlyn out of her head. Would she be the type to be impressed by scars?
"Fuck off, Vi," She chastised herself.
Maybe she just needed some sleep. Maybe she just needed to restart her brain, just like when she restarts the engines. She dries her face with one of her towels and exits the bathroom.
"Just close my eyes. That's all I gotta do. Don't even thin-"
The knock was a rapid dance of knuckles. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She was pretty damn sure she didn't invite anybody over, and she was fairly sure no one even knew where she lived, except for Torrin. But he wouldn't say anything.
Unless it was the sheriff.
"Nah, Torrin, wouldn't tell her that." She thought aloud.
The knock came back a bit more frantic and rougher.
"Hold on, I'll be right there!" She called out, wrapping her fingers around the baseball bat that rested against her makeshift nightstand of milk crates.
She unlocked the deadbolt as she turned the doorknob slowly, keeping her body pressed against the door jam. Her eyes stayed focused on the chain lock watching the door strain against the tension. Her breath caught as she watched the crowbar crash into the metal links. Someone shoved the door roughly throwing it open and pushing Vi back.
She set her back foot and raised her batting arm, ready to send someone's head for a home run. Two of them rushed her instantly.
With a roar she swung, hitting one cleanly in the temple and making him fall back unconscious. The crowbar clattered beside his body.
The other got lucky and ducked the swing. He wrapped his arms around her waist, using his advantage to lift her body up into the air.
The bat slipped from her hands as the air left her body, making her lungs seize. With a hard knock on her head, the tangle of bodies landed on the dusty concrete floor of her flat. By instinct, she rose her fists to protect her head as his fist began to make blows to her face. She bucked her hips throwing the attacker off her body. She rolled onto her knees and ducked just in time to miss a kick aimed at her head.
"Ahh," She barked in surprise, nearly losing her balance as she recovered herself. She stood up quickly, her fists raised, stance perfect. "The fuck you think you are, breaking my bloody lock?" She snarled.
A grin was plastered on the attacker's face. "The same one who will drag your bloodless body to Rolum." He spat.
"Fuck off man, I do not have the time for this. Tell that dick to bring himself so we can have a good chat, eh? Not this impersonal shit. Kinda fucking rude in my opinion." She replied angrily.
"I'm afraid that will not be sufficient for my orders." He chuckled darkly.
Vi shrugged. "Alright fine, but you're messing with the wrong bitch, fuckeroo." She moved first kicking her milk crate night table straight into his knee. He bent low in reaction his left hand going straight to his patella. She grabbed the edge of her ratty blanket on her murphy bed, throwing it over his head. He flailed uselessly trying to pull this loose material to unblind himself. Vi grabbed his head and slammed her knee into his covered chin. He started to fall back before she grabbed at the lapels of his old leather jacket. She pulled the sheet from his head, watching the panic in his eyes, before thrusting her forehead into his nose.
A loud crunch was heard, blood splattered the flooring and makeshift furniture around them.
"Ahh voids, do you know how hard it is to get blood stains out of cardboard boxes? C'mon man." She frowned.
The attacker half consciously lulled his head to the side to look at her in pained curiosity. Why was she walking him backwards?
"We gotta send a message, boyo." She chuckled, half dragging half pushing him toward the open door. His feet almost moved in a pattern that would resemble a drunken saunter. "Now you've got the easy part, my dude. Yer just gonna fall into a nice lil' snooze on the street. Easy peasy, I swear." She promised
"I donfe bewleife….lik..like...plweaan." He half whimpered half garbled.
"Shh shh shh. Sleepytime, buddy." She whispered. She pushed him into the busy evening air. He half caught himself before he nearly stumbled onto his back. "Now you fucking tell Rolum to walk his ass down here instead of bringing half-assed dick wads into my home. He has a problem with me he can fucking deal with it himself like a real fucking man." She bellowed.
The population of this ring were used to these displays. Power struggles of gangs trying to break through to the upper rings were a common thread of news in the area. It never stopped their paths or their ears. Sure they may not be obviously observing the incidents before them, but they were still listening and watching from the corner of their eyes.
And so were the gang scouts who were always watching.
She lunged forward with a powerful left cross that connected to his right cheek. The strike spun him around in an almost comedic fashion before he fell face first into the cobblestone street. A hexcarriage gave a loud annoyed honk as it narrowly avoided running over his body.
Vi spat at him and glared at the eveningoers. They seemed to quicken their paces to avoid any altercation. "Get dunked." She scoffed.
She had the undeniable feeling of being watched crawl up her spine. Her hairs stood on end warning her of an overly observant gaze, nothing like the usual gang scout. She turned herself as she took a steadying breath.
Alright, let's think this through, Vi. She thought. I could crash under the docks for a night, or break into the warehouse and sleep under my desk. Nah that's fucking stupid, why bring trackers to Torrin. Bad enough he's getting targeted by some other idiots. I'll have to move all night, keep whoever's watching me on a goose chase. I gotta be more careful. Being too comfortable. Can't make mistakes like this again. No more habits you dult. Torrin is gonna be pissed when he finds out I'm not coming back. Maybe I can make a courtesy call. No that's stupid, don't connect yourself with him, idiot.
She stepped over the first assailant. His unconscious body lay motionless as she gathered a few things into a pack. Enough food for a few days, her med kit, a second set of clothes, her tool bag and a few cans of beer for the road. She shrugged on her leather jacket, checking her pockets for her pack of cigarettes and lighter. With a deep sigh of relief now that her nicotine craving could last for another week thank you, Margaret, for leaving your new pack on the counter, She cackled inwardly. She turned to her kitchenette counter where her crudely constructed gauntlets waited for her.
"I ain't forgetting you, my loves." She grinned. They'd be heavy and awkward to travel with, plus an attention seeker, but who the hell would wanna tango with her with these hulking beauties attached to her fists. If she fiddled enough with them they probably could produce enough power to blow someone away. It tickled her mind slightly. That would be wicked to see.
Her digits glided over the rusted metal of the heating plates and pressure gauge. It was a gentle touch of pure adoration. She will make these goliaths great, just as she is trying to build herself up. Those nerds will not know what hit 'em when she makes it on her own accord. Rejecting her because she isn't Piltie, isn't proper. She'll wipe those pompous arrogant moustaches from their faces when she gets to the top.
But first, she needs to deal with the problem at hand.
She places her hands into the gauntlets. Her thumbs hit the power switches. The gears hum and cough the first few seconds before the machinery breathes before the power crystals fully transfer their power to her gauntlets. The steam hisses from the side exhausts as they form to her hands, locking tightly into place. The devilish smile that forms with her lips would cause most religious individuals to pray to their gods.
One with Machine.
She charges her gauntlets, letting the energy flow through the systems to her veins. It feels amazing as they hum in rhythm with her heart.
"Oh ho ho, fuck yeah." She growls in pleasure, before lunging forward and blowing out a whole through her now abandoned unit's wall. Sure her landlord will do their best to get in contact to pay for the damages but wasn't that what a damage deposit was for. She already paid a year's rent so they shouldn't be too angry if she wasn't going to renew the lease for the next year? Right?
Bah that didn't matter now. It was just Vi. Vi and her gauntlets to conquer the streets again.
This was not what she had planned. It had been a week since Rolum's groupies attacked her and here she was, rain pouring down on her like her self-regret. Non-stop.
Her travels had taken her to the back of an 'authentic' Bilgewatian pub in the shopping district of Piltover proper. These Piltie idiots throw around 'yohos' and pirate hats, singing Freljordian sea shanties thinking it resembles anything like the port city-state.
What dults. If only they spent a day there, they wouldn't be thinking it was a joy of a time pretending to be pirates.
She takes a long drag from her cigarette. It's her last one and it's an annoying reminder to go be out to the public and be berated with their untrusted looks. They don't take Zaunites very well up in these parts of the city.
Some city of progress.
Her funds are still in good standing. She was able to make a full withdrawal from her account and it is now resting safely in the secret pocket of her leather jacket.
She finishes her cigarette throwing it into a nearby puddle. The rain begins to descend much harder. It's no longer a light sheet, but a heavy curtain. The expensive hexcarriages that drive past the alley are no longer in view.
She sighs heavily before returning her hands to the safety of her gauntlets. She needs to get moving. If she is lucky there may still be openings at the cheap looking inn a block away. She could do well with a proper nights sleep on a warm bed rather than soaking wet garbage bags. Plus she needs to get ready. She found a local garage looking for help and if she could catch a proper place to work on more hextech and to be able to get some wiring work done on her gauntlets, it would be perfect. If she can just hold out for a month, she could figure out how the hell she was going to take on Rolum so that she could actually sleep peacefully.
The feeling of being watched returns. It comes every now and again reminding her of her situation. One time she woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the lower class ring as the feeling had crept into her dreams. She had gotten up and continued to move on never sleeping for another day before it became too much. She's not sure if it's paranoia or if she is actually being followed, but either way, she can't take the feeling lightly. She's been doing her best to find the source but with countless nights of no sleep and hunger, it had been almost impossible.
The sound of a door crashing open catches her ears. It sets her on edge as she leans on the balls of her feet.
"Fredrick, let's not. Your wife is in there." A voice broke in panic. "Please get off me."
"Shhh, she doesn't know. We can do this quickly, Jerra. I've been hungry for your touch." The high Piltovian accent cut through the pouring rain.
"No, this is stupid." The other voice protested.
Vi still cringes at the accents. They sound so...sophisticated. Having such a proper way of speaking must be so exhausting.
"What's stupid is that youse came into an alley to get yer freak on." Another voice added. This made Vi's ears perk. A lower accent? The sound of a switchblade clicked open. "It would be a shame if you were caught screaming an' half naked with yer guts out. Pay up and I'll at least let ya have the courtesy of redressing, eh?"
"Fredrick, No!" The voice of Jerra protested. The sound of a switchblade clicked open. Curses were shouted and grunts echoed through the alleyway. "Someone please help!"
Vi rolled her eyes. She turned her head to look over her shoulder. The figures of a young woman caught her attention. Seemed cute, nothing really going on for style. Probably some rich family's next heir in some business. Before her were two other male figures in quite the battle of strength.
She sighed heavily as she turned herself fully.
"Oi, d'ya mind shutting the fuck up? I'm trying to brood." She called over the rain. Lightning cracked in the sky above them.
The figures continued to wrestle for power.
"Voids above." She snarled under her breath as she sauntered forward. She pushed past the petite young woman. "I said shut the fuck up!" She bellowed splitting up the two men. The obvious Piltovian citizen looked to Vi in shock as she stepped in. His eyes nearly bugged out of his perfectly coiffed head as he regarded her gauntlets. He went protectively to the young woman, almost using her as a shield. Vi returned his look with a sneer. "Just want some fucking peace and quiet, but you dults just wanna conk the shit out of each other, which trust me I get-" She was cut off as a fist landed its way on her chin.
She took a second to recover as she turned her attention to the hitter. The Zaunite glared at Vi with disdain. "These were mine, get yer own steals!" He spat. "Yer on my territory cunt."
Vi raised her newly scarred eyebrow to the idiot. "Yer what now?"
"Beat it before I gut ya."
Vi blinked before she gave a loud roar of a laugh. The Piltovian adultering couple looked at Vi incredulously. She looked at them with a wide grin. "Can ya believe this guy? He really thinks… Ya know what. Thank you. I really needed this." She directed this to the angry Zaunite. "I'll let you walk away right now. Go on. Go home back to yer missus before I break your face to bits."
He didn't respond as he lunged at her. Vi sidestepped him. She grabbed the back of his jacket and picked him up easily. Her gauntlets released an annoyed sigh of steam at the effort. The man swung his arms as he was lifted, trying to break her hold. She ducked out of the way in time to miss getting jabbed in the face with his knife.
"Oh please." Vi scoffed before she tossed the man out the other end of the alley. "Go home!" She bellowed out as his body skidded to a halt on the curb side of the street.
"Thank you, miss." The Piltovian man said as he extended his hand.
"Fuck off," Vi grumbled pushing past them and returning to her side of the alley. She gave another heavy sigh before she walked out into the street way, the rain shrouding her as she walked briskly out of their sights.
The report was slapped onto her desk. "East of the shopping district on Orion." The officer explained. "Two citizens were in an altercation. She stepped in and ended it. No harm no foul."
"Interesting." She muttered holding the manila folder in her slight hands. "No damage or brutal beatings?"
"None." The officer replied, her voice brisk and uninterested. "They said the Pink haired Zaunite threw their attacker out of the alley and the perp got away shortly after."
"Keep track of any more movement from her in that area. I wonder why she's in the shopping district. She'll stick out like a sore thumb out there." The sheriff queried. "Keep a tab of any hextech shops or work factories. Did she have the digger hands?"
"Only takes them off to smoke." The officer replied.
"She'll be wanting to make upgrades. If my uncle is correct, she tinkers quite a bit with them. It must be driving her insane. If we catch a pattern, we can corner her. We just need her to stop being on the move. Let's keep the tracking to a minimum. Be a day behind her, no more keeping eyes on her. She probably knows she's being watched."
"Yes ma'am."
"You're dismissed." Caitlyn returned her attention to the report. "One step closer." She breathed. "The last piece to the puzzle of Rolum Jamieson."
